


A Craving for Apples

by MachaSWicket



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1220446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachaSWicket/pseuds/MachaSWicket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMARY:  Lorelai is craving apples all of a sudden. Written based on a spoiler.</p><p>ORIGINALLY POSTED:  spring 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Craving for Apples

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS: To jesouhaite and em for the quick betawork.

It wasn't the third trip that did it. 

No third time's the charm, no three strikes you're out -- none of that clichéd stuff for Lorelai Gilmore. Instead, she waited until the _fourth_ time she slunk into Doose's for an apple before she snapped right there in the fruit aisle.

She wigged, she freaked, she flipped. She was Martha in _Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?_ only without the drinking and the crazy husband. (So, really, she wasn't very much like Martha at all, except for her sudden, strong desire to drink and swear and make up stories that were easier to deal with than reality.)

Being Lorelai Gilmore, she didn't do anything halfway -- why confine her freakout to Doose's Market or Stars Hollow when she could make it more of a regional event? So she walked out of Doose's, turned her cellphone off, and headed for the highway to find a relatively safe place. In her panic, she ran through options in her head. Nowhere nearby, obviously, because every small town in Connecticut had its own Miss Patty, and Lorelai was convinced that the various Miss Pattys had some sort of phone tree. 

Six years ago, Lorelai's ill-fated trip to Woodbury for a suitable Halloween costume had led to an _actual_ witch trial at an emergency town meeting, with Taylor Doose doing his best impression of Samuel Parrish. It'd been so totally ridiculous that Lorelai amused herself by daring Taylor to build a bridge out of her. Taylor's shouting led to one of Luke's best rants ever, on the subject of New England Puritanism and irrational fear of single mothers. He'd even persuaded Bootsie that Lorelai was not, in fact, a witch. It had been quite something.

But thinking of Luke reminded her of why, exactly, she was careening toward the Merritt Parkway, trying to figure out whether it was safer to go north or south. New Haven was out (Rory). Hartford was out (Emily and Richard). Toss in the small-town grapevine, and the rest of Connecticut was out. Boston was out (Christopher).

In Lorelai's mind, that left New York City.

She turned south and made it as far as Scarsdale before she absolutely couldn't wait another second. The sun was setting, and obviously she'd seen too many clichéd movies, because her mind interpreted that as some sort of sign. All she needed now was a really threatening thunderstorm -- and maybe a nice computer-generated tornado to complete the "DANGER AHEAD!" omens trifecta.

Lorelai turned into a pharmacy parking lot and strode inside, her hands shaking. Just inside the door, she stopped, remembering with startling clarity being sixteen and pregnant and terrified. Back then, she'd had to ask the clerk for help, her cheeks flaming red and her eyes downcast. This time, she marched straight down the aisle marked "birth control" and found the pregnancy tests, nestled right beside the condom display.

"Mean," she muttered, scanning the pink boxes for the prettiest logo. Picking one at random, she headed for the counter, head held high, just daring her fellow customers to comment on her slutitude. She passed the small refrigerated display case near the front and glanced inside, stopping short when she saw the apple juice.

She really, really wanted the apple juice. Healthy, good-for-you, chock-full-of-vitamins, *apple juice*. She didn't even _like_ apple juice. "Damn," she muttered, and reached for a bottle.

Lorelai placed the pregnancy test and the apple juice side by side on the counter, but the teenaged clerk could barely muster up the energy to tell her the total, never mind make any subtly judgmental comments.

In the parking lot, she chugged the apple juice and willed herself to have to pee. Didn't work right away, so she got back in her jeep with her scarlet bag (really it was white; but it _felt_ scarlet) on the seat beside her, and drove around Scarsdale. She bought a paper at the newsstand and wandered into a small park. Try as she might, she couldn't make herself focus on the paper, not even the Page Six stuff about celebrity weddings and scandals and breakups and babies. 

Babies.

She stared blankly at the grass, trying to imagine what it would be like to carry Luke's baby.

"God," she said, shivering a little despite the warmth. Lorelai was stubborn and she was great at denial. Even so, she was having trouble holding back the stampeding emotions. "Well," she told herself, ignoring the awkward glance a dog-walker gave her, "this sure isn't helping."

Jumping up, she hopped back in the Jeep, driving a little faster until she saw a small café and pulled in. Scarsdale was close enough to the city to have a little Starbucks clone, with venti whipped caramel macchiatos and grande iced mocha lattes and a half-dozen other complicated drinks that would make Luke all rant-y. Lorelai stared at the menu board, scarlet bag clutched in one hand, and tried to figure out what she wanted.

But -- Coffee. Coffee had caffeine. And if she was -- she couldn't have caffeine. _That_ thought made her absolutely crazy. No coffee? What fresh hell was that?

Though Luke would probably be really happy about the no-coffee thing. Whether he'd be happy about the cause... Well, that was really anyone's guess. Lorelai pressed her fingertips against her eyelids, willing herself not to do this _now_ , not when she didn't know anything at all.

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

Lorelai focused on the girl behind the counter and tried her damnedest to give off NotCrazy vibes. Given the look on the barista's face, Lorelai figured she was failing miserably. The girl couldn't have been much older than Lorelai was the _last_ time she'd been searching for a safe place to take a pregnancy test. With a forced smile, Lorelai pointed toward the bathroom. "I'm just gonna... _then_ I'll order a drink."

The girl's smile faltered a little. "Okay," she answered, her tone wary.

"Thanks." Lorelai locked herself in the bathroom and tore into the pregnancy test, removing the small white stick and frowning at it. "Okay, this was _way_ more complicated before." She would swear there were cups and liquids and possibly eyedropper-type instruments, but a cursory glance at the instructions and another look inside the empty box convinced her this was it.

She stared in the mirror for a long moment, telling herself to calm down, telling herself she'd be fine whichever way this went, telling herself to get a grip already and pee on the damn stick.

She did. And then she waited two excruciatingly long minutes, pacing in the cramped space: step and a half, turn, step and a half, turn. It did nothing to ease her nerves, but it did make her dizzy. Finally, Hello Kitty's paw reached the seven, and she could look at the test.

"Please, please, please," Lorelai muttered, not entirely sure what she was pleading for as she reached for the pregnancy test.

Five minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom, pale and red-eyed, and ordered a venti caramel latte, extra whip cream, to go.

* * *

The bell clanged and Luke turned, expecting to see Lorelai striding in, talking a mile a minute and demanding coffee. But it wasn't _that_ Lorelai Gilmore.

"Hey, Luke," Rory greeted, smiling at him. She looked tired, but relatively cheerful, and all dressed up.

"Hey, Rory." Luke rounded the counter and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. He wasn't really good at this demonstrative thing, but since he saw Rory much more rarely than he used to, he wanted her to know he missed her. "Coffee?"

"Sure." She scanned the diner, brow furrowed. "Mom's not here?"

Luke snagged the coffee pot from the burner and turned, shrugging. "Haven't seen her." He poured a generous mugful of coffee, then slid the sugar toward her.

"Huh." Rory climbed onto a stool and accepted the mug with a grateful smile. "Thanks." She cupped her hands around the ceramic cup -- one of the oversized mugs he'd bought with the Gilmores in mind -- and lifted it to her lips with a heartfelt sigh of appreciation.

Lorelai was lucky Rory'd grown past four feet, with as early as she'd gotten her daughter addicted on coffee. "Hey, Rory, do me a favor -- eat a carrot for me?"

Rory just laughed at him. "No, thanks. But if it makes you feel better, I did have a banana milkshake today."

Luke blinked. "Why would that make me feel better?"

"Well, it has bananas in it, right?"

"You're as bad as your mother."

"But not as forgetful," Rory answered with a grin. "Must be the potassium. Isn't potassium supposed to help your memory?"

"I have no idea." Luke crossed his arms and leaned back, starting to wonder, now, about Lorelai's whereabouts. "Was she supposed to meet you here?"

"No," Rory answered, sipping at her coffee. "Well, I don't know. It's," she shrugged, averting her gaze, "Friday night."

"Last time I checked," Luke agreed, almost amused by Rory's reaction. One thing she'd never quite picked up from Lorelai was the ability to dissemble. Every time Rory tried to avoid a subject, she fidgeted and refused to look him in the eye.

She carefully added a bit of sugar and then stirred her coffee, focusing quite intently on the task. "You know that Mom doesn't go to Hartford on Fridays anymore."

"But you do," Luke answered. "Go to Friday night dinners, I mean."

Rory chanced a glance at him, her brow furrowed with worry. "Yes, I do. I _have_ to, Luke. It's contractual, and--"

"Hey, Rory," Luke interrupted, leaning forward a little to catch her gaze.

She looked at him, still worried, her mouth turned down in a frown. "Yeah?"

"They're your grandparents," he said with a shrug. "They're family."

"I know, but I'm so mad at Grandma for treating you the way she did," Rory answered, the words tumbling out of her now. "It was awful. I mean, I've seen Grandma do some thoughtless things before, but this was different. It was thought _ful_." Rory's eyes widened. "No, not _thoughtful_."

"I know what you meant," Luke answered with a small grin. He was more than a little touched to realize that Rory was angry not just on her mother's behalf, but also on his. 

"Premeditated," Rory corrected herself, with a jab of her finger in the air. "Oh!" she added, eyes bright, "With malice aforethought."

Her vehemence was humbling, since he still wasn't entirely convinced that Rory supported his dating her mother. The Gilmore women were very protective of each other, and Luke worried that Rory might still resent him for walking away after the Christopher debacle. Rory had never mentioned it to him, but Luke had received quite an enlightening visit from Sookie not too long after their reconciliation, and he hated the thought that Lorelai'd been so broken up that Rory rushed home from New Haven to make sure she was okay.

Rory and her mother deserved better than that from him. Luke raised his eyebrows at her, and leaned forward, determined to make her smile. "You've been at Yale too long."

Rory tried to hide her smile behind her coffee cup, taking a big sip. She carefully set the mug down, placing it just so on the counter. "I just don't want you to think I in any way condone what my grandmother did," Rory explained in that serious way of hers. "It was cruel, and I don't like to see you or my Mom hurt. Plus," she added with a grin, "I think you and Mom are really good together."

Luke blinked rapidly, swallowing a suspicious tightness in his throat. Because Rory'd never told him that before, it was a relief to have her blessing. "I think we are, too," he answered, his voice rough, "but it's good to hear you agree."

Rory nodded, then glanced around again. "You really haven't seen her?" she asked, sounding a little frustrated now. Stars Hollow was between Hartford and New Haven, but she probably wouldn't have stopped unless she expected to see her mother.

"No," Luke answered, "but we didn't have plans tonight. Caesar's on a date," Luke explained with a grimace. "I'm closing, so..."

"Ah." Rory made a face. "Caesar on a date. Huh."

"Yeah," Luke agreed, rolling his eyes. "Were you supposed to meet her?"

"Not officially," Rory admitted. "It's just sort of... informal post-Friday night dinner thing. A Friday night dessert, if you will. I tried her cell phone, though, and it's going straight to voicemail."

Luke nodded slowly, but he didn't like what he was hearing. He hadn't actually seen Lorelai since her morning cup of coffee. "She's probably working late at the inn."

"Probably," Rory agreed, looking a little troubled herself. "I'm going to head back to Yale," she decided, slipping off the stool and reaching for her jacket. "Tell Mom I stopped by?"

"Of course," Luke agreed. "And keep that," he insisted, pointing at the five dollar bill in her hand. "Save your money for books."

Rory grinned at him. "Thanks, Luke. Good night."

"Night," he answered, watching her leave, his expression thoughtful. He made sure his patron -- Kirk, of course -- didn't need anything, then grabbed the phone. No answer at her house, and her cell phone did, indeed, go straight to voicemail.

Luke left a message, then hung the phone up and stood there, arms crossed. "Huh."

* * *

After about an hour of driving and crying -- and way too much time wasted trying to remember the lyrics to Drivin' and Cryin's immortal "Fly Me Courageous" -- Lorelai found a highway headed north and turned onto it. A half hour later, she pulled off and drove through a Dunkin' Donuts, ordering the largest coffee they offered. Because, why not? No reason she couldn't drink caffeine, right?

The intense disappointment she felt about that particular reality was ridiculous. Stupid. Pointless. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't quite talk herself out of it.

She couldn't have a baby. Not right now. Not when she and Luke were only seven months into this relationship -- with a one-month breakup and incessant family meddling in there, just to keep things interesting. Just because the thought of having a kid with Luke, the thought of being forever with Luke, made her want to twirl around in the Alps and sing really annoying songs didn't mean the timing would've been right.

And what about Luke? 

He was _Luke_! He would've turned all wide-eyed and monosyllabic, and he would say he needed time to process, and then he'd show up to talk and find her sewing little baby clothes and he'd run screaming into the night.

Okay, it probably wouldn't be _that_ bad, but -- she really couldn't imagine how Luke would react.

Not that any of it mattered, because she wasn't pregnant. But she couldn't stop thinking about it anyway, scenarios and imaginary reactions ricocheting around in her brain until she pulled into _another_ coffee shop for _another_ dose of caffeine. Because that would obviously settle her rattled nerves.

By the time Lorelai got back to Stars Hollow, her entire body was thrumming with caffeine-induced energy. She let herself into her house and checked her messages. None. Huh. Not a single person had called--

And then Lorelai remembered she'd turned her cell phone off. "Shoot," she muttered, digging it out of her purse. She flipped it back on and tapped a fingernail against its plastic skin until it coughed up her messages. Four? Wincing, Lorelai called her voicemail.

Rory: "Hey, it's me. Just wondering if we're on for dessert tonight. Call me."

Friday night dessert. Damn.

Rory: "Hey, Mom. I'm on my way back to Yale. I stopped by the diner, but Luke said you weren't around tonight. Dinner was... typical. Also, I had a run-in with a really insistent squirrel today on campus, and I know you always enjoy a good wildlife story, so call me back, okay? Bye."

Lorelai slumped onto the couch, dropping her face into her free hand. She'd call Rory first thing in the morning to apologize.

Luke: "Hey, it's me. Just checking in since I haven't seen you tonight. Call me."

Just the sound of his voice left her throat tight and her eyes stinging.

Luke: "Lorelai, it's a little after eleven and I'm gonna head to bed, but -- Call me, okay? Don't worry about waking me up. Just call."

Oh, God. He was worried. She'd been so wrapped up in her own drama that she hadn't even considered how Luke would react to her going radio silent for an evening.

"Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no," Lorelai chanted, running back out the door. Because all of a sudden, she could see it unfolding in Technicolor -- she'd gone missing, and he'd (mis)interpret that as running away, but he wouldn't know why, and then the trash company at that place in Scarsdale would put two and two together and call Miss Patty, and she'd tell Babbette, and Babbette would pinch Luke's cheeks and tell him his little swimmers would do better next time, and then--

"Oh, God."

She didn't bother with the Jeep, just hoofed it on over to Luke's. The diner was closed. Not a big surprise, given that it was nearly one in the morning. And all of the lights in Luke's apartment were off.

Lorelai stood on the sidewalk, undecided. She glanced down at the cell phone in her hand, but she couldn't do that to him. Plus, she kind of needed him. She'd tried for the past few hours to sort through everything herself, and she could tell it wasn't working. 

All of which was secondary to the part where she owed it to Luke to explain. She hated that she'd made him worry. And she'd learned her lesson from The Christopher Fiasco -- lying wasn't an option.

With a sigh, she dug out keys to his apartment and let herself in the back door.

* * *

"Luke?"

Lorelai's voice woke him, and he rolled over, squinting at the familiar figure silhouetted by the door. "What? Lorelai?"

"Yeah," she answered, closing the door and moving closer. He could tell by her frenzied movements that she was either over-caffeinated or extremely nervous. Maybe both. He blinked sluggishly and tried to focus.

"You're okay," he surmised, pushing himself upright and trying to wake up fully. It was still dark, and he wasn't really a night person. "What time is it?"

"Ten 'til one," she answered, speaking quickly. "Sorry bout that. Listen, Luke, I wasn't running."

Luke blinked. "You weren't running?" he repeated blankly. He tried, but -- nope, he had no idea what she was talking about.

"Well, I was half-running to get over here," she continued, pacing a little, but not moving any closer to the bed. Luke instinctively did _not_ like this, so far. Whatever _this_ was.

"Half-running?" Luke swung his legs out of bed, wincing as his bare feet touched the floorboards. Though the chill did help jolt him fully awake. He rubbed a palm over his face. "Lorelai, what are you talking about?"

"I want you to know that I wasn't running," she told him, her voice a little desperate, which just made Luke more wary. "I wasn't. I swear." She gave him a smile, but it was forced. "You know me, I don't run."

"You're not terribly sporty," he answered, eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong. The last time she'd been this skittish, she'd sprung her tequila-soaked night with Christopher on him. Involuntarily, Luke stiffened and he looked at her with suspicion.

"I mean," she continued, ignoring his response entirely, "I _do_ run. Metaphorically. But I've been working on that. I'm much better than I used to be, and I don't want to run away from you. So there's that. But you're right that I don't run, you know, _literally_. Or I guess athletically is a better adverb to use. I don't run athletically."

Thoroughly confused, Luke stood and moved toward her, stopping when she backed up a step. What the hell? "Lorelai, what are you talking about?" he demanded, his suspicion and fear morphing into irritation.

"Please, just remember that I wasn't running away from you." Luke's chest tightened, and he couldn't seem to think of a response. She took a half-step toward him. "I'm in, and you're in, and we're, you know, in together. We could write a whole Beatles song about how _in_ we both are, right?"

"Right," he agreed, even though he had no idea what the Beatles had to do with anything. Whatever she was working up to was bad, obviously. After that horrible month without her, he'd explained to her with words and actions that he wasn't willing to do that again. Ever. The fact that she seemed worried he might walk away over... _whatever_ scared him more than he wanted to admit.

Luke could see her face now, and her eyes sparkled brightly in the dim light. She swallowed and said, "I'm not pregnant. I thought I might be, but I'm not, and I wasn't running. I was just... processing."

But Luke tripped over the third word and missed the rest. "You're not...?" he echoed, tilting his head a little. "You're not _what_?"

"Pregnant," she repeated nervously. "I'm _not_. _Not_ pregnant. Took a test and everything. No babies for me. So don't, you know, flip out."

Pregnant. She thought she might've been pregnant? _Pregnant_? Luke tried to make words happen, but... nothing.

"Apparently, it's just your bad influence," Lorelai continued, her hands dancing in the air as her gaze skittered away from him. "I was craving apples, and the only time I've ever craved apples in my entire life was when I was pregnant with Rory. Well, that's the only time I've ever craved apples in their virgin, fruity form. I do crave the occasional apple strudel. Or my mother's apple tarts -- Well, more accurately, my mother's _cook's_ apple tarts. Oh! Or apple martinis. Just not apples." Her voice grew higher and edgier. "So I thought maybe I was--" She stopped, lips pressed tightly together.

"Pregnant?" Luke asked, eyes wide and unblinking. There. He'd managed a word. _The_ word, actually, because... _pregnant_?

"No," she corrected, sounding a little worried now. " _Not_ pregnant, Luke. _Not_. Just craving actual health food."

He couldn't feel his legs. "I think I need--" He all but collapsed onto the couch, his breath leaving him in a whoosh. Pregnant. He hung his head, elbows on his thighs, and stared at the floor. _Pregnant_. Lorelai, pregnant, with his baby.

The mere thought terrified him in ways he couldn't explain, and somewhere in his chest, he ached for that fact that she _wasn't_ pregnant.

"Luke?" Lorelai moved closer, settling on his coffee table, not quite across from him. Her hand landed on his knee, and he could feel her tremors. "Hey, Luke?"

He met her gaze, staring at the lines of her face, studying her. "But you're not," he said slowly. Because it still wasn't quite making sense in his head.

"No," Lorelai answered, and her voice trembled with the admission. "I'm not." She tried to smile. "Don't you worry. I'll be my usual, unbearable self for a couple days, scowling at everyone and demanding dark chocolate, just like always."

He could tell she was upset, fighting tears even, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in a hug and let her cry about this. But _this_ was too big for him to understand, too big for him to process his own reaction, never mind be a rock for Lorelai.

Lorelai, who'd thought she was pregnant with his baby.

Pregnant.

Luke dropped his gaze back to the hardwood floor and stared, incapable of doing anything but fight the maelstrom inside of him.

* * *

Lorelai huddled on Luke's coffee table, watching him warily and fighting back tears. This wasn't going anything like she'd imagined it would. She'd pictured her stoic confession and his Lukeish reaction -- wrapping her in his arms and telling her things would be okay. His voice would be rough and she'd be able to hear his regret, feel his sorrow in the way he touched her. But he would still be her Luke of Gibraltar, the way he always had been in the past.

Instead, he was sitting, catatonic, on his couch, looking like he'd just been sucker-punched by... someone really strong. God, she couldn't even make a good Wrestlemania joke. Things were very dire indeed. Somehow, she'd managed to overlook the fact that this would hit him as hard as it'd hit her. It was his baby, too.

Would have been his baby, she corrected herself, shutting her eyes for a moment. She sucked in a slow, steady breath, then tentatively reached out, taking his slack hand in hers. "Luke?"

His gaze swung over to hers, sharp and laser-focused all of a sudden. "Where were you?" he demanded.

Lorelai's stomach knotted. When he was hurting, he lashed out. She'd seen it a hundred times. Hell, she'd been on the receiving end of it more than once. But tonight -- she knew she couldn't handle the role of punching bag, not when she was still raw to the touch. "Luke, please--"

"Where were you?" he repeated, anger creeping into his voice now.

"It was stupid, Luke. It was me being overly suggestible," she babbled. "I never even missed a period. I just--"

"Where," he said again, gritting the words out through a clenched jaw, "were you?" Luke at full boil. The explosion was just a matter of time, now, and Lorelai wasn't entirely sure they'd get through the aftermath unscathed.

A little scared now, Lorelai tightened her grip on him, trying to anchor him to her. "Scarsdale," she admitted.

"Scarsdale?" Luke's eyebrows shot up. "New York?"

Lorelai nodded, putting on her best neutral expression. "Yes." If she could defuse his anger, she was pretty sure they'd be okay. A little sad, a little shaken, but okay.

Luke tilted his head, his bright blue eyes glittering dangerously. "You went to _New York_ today?"

"Yes." God, he was really focusing on the New York thing. She opened her mouth to explain about the Miss Pattys stationed all over Connecticut, but he cut her off.

"Because you thought you might be--" he faltered, shook his head once, and then continued, "and so your first reaction is to go to _New York_."

"I wasn't running," she told him, her voice low and sincere. "I swear, Luke. I wasn't running away from you--"

"Bullshit," he shot back, wrenching his hand free as he stood. It was his turn to pace, moving with sharp, angry strides. "You can't lie to me. I know you too well."

"I'm not lying," she countered, smarting.

He waved a dismissive hand in her direction, and when he spoke, his words were bitter and derisive. "You've done the same thing for years, Lorelai. I've seen it. Whenever your relationships get too serious or too demanding, you run."

He wasn't wrong, but it hurt, especially considering that everything was different with him, and he should know that. More than that, Luke wasn't supposed to throw darts at her insecurities. Still, she lifted her chin and answered him levelly, "Not this time."

"Oh, really?" he scoffed with biting sarcasm. "This time, instead of talking to me, you drove to _New York_."

"It's not actually that far," she pointed out defensively, even though the relative distance to Scarsdale was hardly the point.

"Oh, sure," Luke answered, bitterly sarcastic. "Driving 100 miles is much easier than _walking across town_ to talk to me."

Lorelai shook hear head, scooting to the edge of the coffee table. "It wasn't like that, Luke, I swear. I _wasn't_ running." In most situations, she would've flinched at the desperation in her tone, but their conversation was spinning rapidly out of control.

"No, you were _driving_ ," he spat. "All the better to get far, far away as fast as possible."

"I came right back," Lorelai said, gesturing around the apartment. "I came here and woke you up to talk to you."

"And if the test came out the other way?" Luke demanded, gesturing wildly. "Where would you have called from, Lorelai? Arizona?"

Stung, she stood and turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. She forced herself to count to ten, made herself breathe slowly. "That's not fair," she said, her voice quiet.

"Not that I blame you," Luke continued bitterly, starting to pace again, long strides that took him from one side of his apartment to the other. "I wouldn't want to listen to what your parents would have to say if you told them you were pregnant with _my_ baby either."

"Hey." Lorelai whirled around to face him, her tone sharp. "I do not deserve that."

"No, what you don't deserve is some blue-collar guy like _me_ ," Luke answered angrily, "some lowly diner owner without a college degree. Hell, a baby would chain you to me for _life_. Your mother wouldn't have another chance to maneuver a reconciliation with the deadbeat who got you pregnant when you were sixteen."

"Luke," Lorelai warned, hands on her hips, glaring at his blurry form. She was shaking with anger, and she was afraid she'd say something she'd regret, or that he'd say something she couldn't forgive. "I know you're upset, but this is not--"

"Maybe we can reverse roles," Luke suggested, throwing his hands in the air. "This time, Christopher can raise _my_ kid."

And that was too far. "There _is_ no kid, or haven't you been listening?" Lorelai shouted. She refused to cry in front of him, even though her throat was tight and her eyes were stinging. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "I'm leaving," she told him. "And if you're wondering, _this_ is exactly why I went to New York. I knew I would be upset either way the test turned out, and I didn't want to say anything to you that I would regret."

"Lorelai--"

But she was out the door, slamming it behind her, stomping down the stairs, not letting the tears start until she burst out the door into the cool night air. 

* * *

He stood in the deafening silence of his apartment for a long time after the sound of the slammed door faded away. He couldn't move, wasn't really breathing right, to be honest. He felt... detached and raw at the same time, and when he thought about what he'd said to her--

Luke shoved his feet into his boots and didn't bother with his jacket. He pounded down the stairs and ran flat out until he caught up to her on Peach. "Lorelai!"

She didn't turn, didn't slow down, and just held up a warning hand. Even from a distance, he could tell she was crying.

"Lorelai," he shouted again, louder this time.

She turned stiffly and shushed him. "It's after one o'clock in the morning," she stage-whispered, tear tracks on her cheeks. "And I'd rather not have whatever insults you're going to throw at me reprinted in the _Stars Hollow Gazette_."

Luke flinched, breathing hard as he reached her side. "I'm sorry," he said. Because he was, for so many things.

Lorelai gave him a withering look before she turned away. "Whatever."

"Lorelai, I'm sorry," he repeated, and it sounded almost like a plea. "I shouldn't have said those things. I don't even know _why_ I said them, because they're not true. You know I have a temper."

"I'm not worried about your temper," she shot back, trudging up the stairs to her front porch. "I just never realized how poor your opinion of me really is."

He stopped, frozen, on her front porch as she flung open the door and disappeared inside.

"Wait," he said, grabbing the door before it could close, shutting him out. "Lorelai--"

"I'm exhausted," she answered, not even looking at him as she headed for the stairs. "I'm going to bed. You can let yourself out."

He stood in her entryway for a long moment, weighing his options. But he knew if he left and let things fester, they'd have a hard time making this right. So he climbed the stairs after her and entered her bedroom just as she was pulling on her flannel Hello Kitty pajama pants. He winced -- comfort pajamas. He'd screwed up good. "Lorelai--"

"I'm tired," she answered woodenly, refusing to look directly at him. She tossed her discarded clothes in the direction of the hamper.

"I reacted badly," Luke began, grasping for the right words to explain.

She laughed, but it was not a happy sound. "And we have an early favorite for understatement of the year."

"Will you let me explain?" he asked, more exasperated than he really had the right to be.

"Bed," she repeated, gesturing to the mattress. "Tired. Sleep." She pulled the covers back and slid underneath, curling up on her side, facing away from him.

"Lorelai--"

"I don't have the energy for this, Luke," she answered, her tone flat. "It's been kind of a long day."

He stood in the doorway for a moment, conflicted. Then he gave a half-shrug and moved to the bed, sitting down to pull his shoes off. What the hell -- he was already in his pajamas. Luke lifted the covers to join her.

"What are you doing?" Lorelai demanded, half-sitting to look at him.

"I'm not leaving," Luke explained evenly, dropping onto the mattress and willing his muscles to relax. It didn't work.

"Fine," she answered, flopping back down and tugging the blankets more tightly around her. He took it as a small victory -- if he'd wrecked things entirely, she wouldn't allow him to sleep in her bed. Luke didn't try to touch her, not yet, because he couldn't bear for her to flinch away from him. 

"I think I'm still in shock," he confessed, letting his eyes close, because it was always easier for him to admit things that way. To his surprise, his imagination presented him with a little girl that reminded him a lot of Rory -- big blue eyes, enchanting giggle, smarter than any kid had a right to be. He pictured Lorelai laughing and lifting the child into her arms. The images inflamed the ache in his gut. "I had no idea you were even thinking you might be--" He stumbled a little over the word-- "pregnant."

"I'm not," Lorelai answered, and he could hear disappointment in her voice. He opened his eyes, tracing her form, taking in the tense set of her shoulders, the protective way she was huddled in a ball.

Luke reached out and placed his palm against her spine, right between her shoulders where she carried most of her tension. "We've been doing really well," Luke said, rubbing gently. "And I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about..." But he chickened out and finished with a lame, "stuff."

"I think about stuff, too," Lorelai whispered.

Luke's throat burned. He waited a moment and said in a low voice, "The thought terrifies me, Lorelai." She stiffened beneath his fingers, and Luke hastened to explain, "No, not -- not like that. Not the--" Man, he sucked at this. Luke blew out a frustrated breath. "I would be an awful father," he confessed finally.

"Luke," Lorelai chided, half-turning so she could see his face. "That's not true."

She actually sounded sincere about it. Luke slid his palm down to her hip and frowned at her. "Are you crazy? I don't even _like_ kids. They're messy and needy. And you saw how bad I was with Jess."

"You," Lorelai told him, her voice trembling a little, "would make a wonderful father."

If he didn't know better, Luke would swear he was blushing. "You _are_ crazy," he surmised, shifting a little closer to her.

"Why else would Rory have defended your honor to Christopher?" Lorelai shot back.

It was Luke's turn to stiffen and pull away. He rolled onto his back, staring moodily at the ceiling, and wondered how in the hell an uneventful day had turned into _this_. He was so tired of feeling envious of a man he considered a grade-A asshole and an irresponsible father to boot. Luke had no doubts that he was a better man than Christopher, but he still wasn't entirely convinced that Lorelai would agree with that assessment. She had one hell of a blind spot when it came to Rory's father. "I wasn't aware that my honor needed defending."

Lorelai sighed as she shifted to face him. "Stop it. I'm talking about you and Rory. She went to Christopher and warned him off months ago, because she loves you and she looks up to you, and you've been there for her every single day for years. You've been her father figure, Luke, and you did an amazing job at it."

He turned his head to look at her, brow furrowed. "You raised that kid on your own. I didn't do anything but bake her a couple of birthday cakes"

Lorelai smiled, her hand smoothing across his chest. "No, I raised her with the help of many people, including Mia and Sookie and _you_. You remembered her birthday and all of the other special days, and you went to a caterpillar's funeral, and you talked to her like an adult, and you did a thousand other things for her. It's not the big gestures, Luke, it's being there every day. And you've always been there. Ask Rory. She'll agree with me." She raised an eyebrow. "I bet if you pumped Jess full of sodium pentothal and asked him, he'd agree with me, too."

Luke simply shook his head, not able to comprehend what Lorelai was saying. "Rory's great because you're great," he argued. "The best I can say about Jess is that I kept him out of prison for a couple years."

Lorelai looked away for a moment, plucking a piece of lint from his pajamas. "So does that mean you don't want kids?" Luke simply spluttered a little and stared at her until she met his gaze. Lips pressed tightly together, she nodded. "I see."

* * *

Lorelai lay there in her bed with Luke and tried not to feel disappointed. It was ridiculous, and it was unfair to Luke to put this kind of pressure on him. They hadn't even been together a year. They weren't married, they weren't engaged, and she was already pressuring him about kids that she hadn't even realized that she wanted before that stupid test came back negative.

"No," Luke said, his tone rough.

Lorelai glanced over at him, lost. "What?"

"You _don't_ see," he told her. "I never considered kids." Luke looped his hand in the air. "Before."

Lorelai watched him carefully, not wanting to let herself hope. "Before tonight?"

Luke turned toward her, letting his hand rest on her shoulder. "Before you," he answered quietly.

His soft admission did what his angry barbs earlier couldn't -- cut right through her defenses. She scooted closer and tucked her face against his chest, shutting her eyes against the tears. Luke pulled her to him, his arms tight around her back, his fingers clutching her ribs. To Lorelai's surprise, his breath hitched. She lifted her head, "Luke?"

Eyes closed, he simply shook his head, his mouth drawn in a tight line.

"I know," she told him, her fingers sliding under his shirt to soothe the soft skin of his ribcage. She kissed the stubble along his jaw. "It's ridiculous to feel disappointed about something that was never real."

"It's not ridiculous," he said, voice raw. He opened his eyes and met her gaze. "I'm sorry, you know."

"I know," she assured him, relieved.

"About all of it." He grimaced. "About the test and about the things I said."

"I know." She glanced away, studying the collar of his worn t-shirt.

"Do you?" Luke asked, shifting until she looked at him. "I just felt blindsided, and I wondered whether you were so adamant about _not_ running away because you actually _did_ run away--"

"I didn't," she interrupted, because he needed to understand that. She held his gaze and looked him right in the eyes. "Really, Luke."

"Okay," he answered, and she could feel some of the tension leave his body. "All that stuff I said about your parents and Christopher--"

"The rantings of a deranged man," Lorelai interrupted lightly. His words had hurt her, but listening to him apologize repeatedly wasn't going to help make things better. "Hey, Luke?"

"Yeah?" His fingers skimmed up her spine, making her shiver.

"I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about this first." He nodded, and she let out a relieved breath. Then she smiled at him, "I swear, the next time I crave a fruit, you will be the first to know."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Good." He pulled her half on top of him, his hands running up and down her back. "I don't want you to have to deal with stuff like this on your own."

"I know," Lorelai answered, leaning up to press a fleeting kiss to his lips. "I'm working on that."

"So we're okay?" he asked, his brow furrowed as he awaited her answer.

"Yeah," she told him. "We're okay." Lorelai watched him for a moment, then raised an eyebrow and asked, "Hey, that was a pretty big fight, don't you agree?"

Luke winced. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

"Yeah, yeah." She waved off his apology, eager to get them back on familiar ground. "I do believe that a major fight deserves some really great makeup sex."

Luke's fingers tightened on her hip. "Oh, really?"

Lorelai shimmied up his body, pressing herself against him. "Definitely."

"Gee, I think I can be persuaded," Luke remarked, his hands already working on her pajamas, pushing and pulling the fabric away from her skin.

The last time they'd had makeup sex, it was fast and passionate. This time, Luke worshipped her body with his talented hands, taking his time until she thought she would die from the suspense. Or kill him for not touching her where she needed him to touch her. 

Then he was inside of her, and she was crying -- _again_ \-- and he stopped to cup her face with his hands. "Lorelai," he whispered, kissing the tears from her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she answered, tightening her legs around his hips. "I'm being stupid."

"You're being human," he murmured. And then he kissed her, tenderly, until she couldn't focus on anything but the way he felt against her skin, inside her body. When she moaned and bucked up against him, he started to move again.

Lorelai kept her eyes open, watching him shift above her, her hands sliding across his chest, along his arms, down his back. He felt so amazing against her skin, and she was already so overwrought that it didn't take long until she was shifting impatiently against him. He moved faster and faster, coaxing her to the edge. He pressed his cheek against hers and said, "I love you, Lorelai."

She mumbled something completely incoherent as she shook against him, and she could feel him follow not long after. He was still trembling as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, hard, on the lips. She pulled back, waiting until he met her gaze to say, "I love you."

Luke's eyes drifted shut in relief, and he dropped his forehead to rest against hers. When he looked up again, he was smiling.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." She grinned. "Don't get cocky." Luke raised an eloquent eyebrow, and Lorelai started to laugh. "Dirty!" she whispered against his ear, pulling him closer. "Now run downstairs and get me an apple."

THE END


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